Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Those of you in New York know that there are maybe 4 weeks of good weather here, 2 weeks in the Spring and 2 in Autumn. With the slight chill in the air and the drop in humidity, it seems that the 2 pleasant weeks of Autumn are upon us now. It's really very beautiful outside--it should stay that way until that weekend, when it will encrapulate again before turning stunning on Monday, when no one can enjoy it. And by 'no one' I mean me.

NO! The Ed Shepp Radio Experimentlives!!! Yay! Celebrate, everyone! Yesh, it's true, gbeepners! I'm on the fall schedule, which means you get to experience more of my special brand of soundsperiments for weeks and weeks and weeks more. Please take a moment to thank your cod. And that's my big announcement for now, gbeeplets.

Not much other news--just working on the show lots and other gwanazble. I've noticed something that's disturbing--I'm using the word 'hot' a lot. Not in a Paris Hilton way, but, well, in some way that's not Paris Hiltonlike. It's odd, because it's only now creeping into my regular speech; it started out as something I thought or said to myself when no one is around. Like, if I'm editing a particular section for the show and it's really working, I find that I think or say, "Damn, that's so HOT!" Or if I'm watching a movie that I really appreciate, I'll be thinking, 'That scene is so HOT!" Examples: Much of Sin City I found hot; I also found the designlike feel of Whore! quite hot. Examples from my show: for the Work show (airing this Friday: In the Observations segment, when I'm talking about hazelnut coffee: The part where the All Things Considered blip comes in; also the part where the beat comes out of Fever with the li'l whoosh sound effect. I would listen to those and think how hot they came out. In that instance, hot would be pretty much synonymous with tight. I've been specifically trying to avoid using the word in public, cux I know people will think it's Paris Hilton-inspired, but really it's not. It's not! So that's my vocabulatory dilemma du jour.

And that's all I've got for right now. I could talk about Kate Moss and all, but everything's been said with that. Over and out.

No comments:

About Me

Mount Dora's most perfect (s)export: A sainted sciconoslastic beepster, born from the freak Florida snow, tempered through 10,000 perfumes and electrosplash soundscapes, who creates magic in his dazzle collider in a pumpkin-shaped igloo somewhere in the vicinity of Norwegenmark (Trailer Park)